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Some of My Favorite Classics.

The Classics I Continue to Read.

"Where would we be without classics?"

Hello All!

Since I am just starting this, I decided to start us off with 2 good blog posts (so I can be a wee bit lazy and not write another until later, haha). Let's get "write" to it! Did you see what I did there? *Insert low chuckles here*. As you can see, I like puns. I should definitely do a blog post about that.

Anyway, back to the topic at hand. As an avid reader, I often find myself searching my shelves and storage for classics. Perhaps even, more often than your average person. When it comes to classics, everyone has their own opinion. While some people I know are happy to sit down one afternoon with a classic, these occurrences are increasingly rare nowadays.

Which begs the question...where would we be without classics? Well, pretty much nowhere. After all, someone had to inspire future generations, right? I don't know about you guys, but personally, I am always excited when someone brings up fantastic classic literature.

That said, here is a list of some of my favorite classics, although they are in no particular order. It's always so difficult to say one is better than the other! Have you read any? Do you see your favorite on this list?

  • 1984 by George Orwell

  • To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

  • Hamlet by William Shakespeare (the 1996 film adaptation was great too!)

  • Memoirs of a Geisha by Author Golden (there was some controversy in Japan over the 2005 film, but I loved it!)

  • Before I Go to Sleep by S.J. Watson

  • The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank

  • The Countess by Rebecca Johns

  • The House with a Clock on its Walls by John Bellairs



The following is "To Be or Not to Be," the famous speech written by William Shakespeare, spoken by Hamlet. It goes as follows:

"To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause—there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action."


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